New Age
by Lingual Copper
Summary: The young Lord Voldemort adopts a giant snake from the forests of Albania, but he soon realizes something off about her. But maybe, just maybe this is exactly what he needs. (Elegant, in-character story for my fellow Voldemort sympathizers looking for a riveting tale - enjoy!)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He could hear the rain softly pelting on the glass of a single window and the slight howl of the wind as a heavy storm rose outside. The trees stretched their stiff husks and brushed the roof with iron branches as cold gusts shifted through their fluttering leaves. Deep burgundy walls loomed over the square room shred in darkness and a soft ticking sound seemed to ebb from the depths of the small space.

A soft whisper escaped from the lithe body slithering smoothly over the ancient wooden floorboards and turned the Dark Lord's thoughts toward the beautiful creature he'd recently met in the dark forests in the bowels of Albania. He smiled to himself and laid his book down on his lap after checking the page number and sitting back, waiting for the legless animal to approach.

She started coiling herself gently around her Master's ankle, nearly anxious to curl into the heat she could feel radiating from His body. He shifted his leg slightly to accommodate her entire length sliding up to gather on top of his lap and touched the tips of his long fingers to her gleaming scales as they passed by. She tasted the warm scent near his shoulder with her forked tongue flicking out and wound herself closer to him when he placed his hand protectively against her cold shape. Her Lord bade her welcome in smooth parselmouth once she was motionless.

" _I am not uncomfortable_." The Dark Lord added, sensing her worry through the tight bond of their minds. He pressed further into her thoughts and found something he did not expect.

She was hiding something from him, he realized as the giant snake quickly recoiled from the reach of his probing mind. He frowned and slid a finger beneath her elongated jaw, bringing her beady eyes level with his own.

She blinked slowly and he sensed her defeat and curiously, a small pulse of fear underneath. He frowned in the darkness and felt her brushing her consciousness against his again, unhurriedly offering the information with air of (fake) distant reptilian indifference to hide her rising anxiety.

While processing her unspoken confession calmly and organizing his emotion in order to form a reply, he could feel her squirm underneath his gaze.

An animagus?

He found her scaly hide with the tips of his fingers and took hold of her forcefully, lifting her away from him. He felt dread rise in his chest, even embarrassment. He had treated her like a pet for a few days now. He was acutely uncomfortable now.

Her coiled body started crawling, her scales swallowed by milky human skin melting and changing into a severely distorted shape. The magic glow in the air was almost tangible and the dim room gleamed an emerald hue for a moment before turning the light inside out and shedding the couple of humans in darkness again.

Her knees pushed deep into the plush cushion of the chair as Nagini straddled the Dark Lord with her hips. Silence enveloped them as their eyes ate at each other.

" _We are the same reflection_." She broke through the taut air with a husky hiss rolling elegantly from her tongue. Her accent so heavy, he almost had trouble deciphering.

He stayed silent but placed two fingers gingerly on the almost translucent skin of her forehead, plucking roughly through her memory and drawing truth from her submissive mind, searching for anything else he might have missed.

He saw that her loyalty was undoubtedly his and that she kept her single secret tightly balled up fearing that her Lord would reject her. He had adopted a snake without sensing that she was animagus. How thick had he been? What else had he missed? His mind reeled with a riptide of doubt for a moment.

She liked the proximity of their special relationship for the past couple of weeks and did not regret her deceit, but he could not find arrogance festering in her primal heart. She must have been in the body of a reptile for a very long time.

Lord Voldemort decided then to let his frown disappear into a subtle smile and let Fate have it's way this once, with his approval. It wasn't too bad. It could possibly have more pros than cons.

He looked up at the girl settled on his lap, her weight sinking him down into the soft cushions; her icy body was pressed to his and her hands rested twisted together in a knot on his chest. She cocked her head slightly while watching him with dark lidded eyes smouldering like embers stolen from an eternal fire. She was in the superior position, but she knew she was not. He felt her pulse flutter as he released his vice grip on her shoulders.

"My Lord," she breathed in a heavy voice, her flushed lips parting slightly. "Accept this as an immortal pledge." Her voice was steady and her eyes dead serious. He blinked and brushed his fingers over the glowing white skin of her shoulders, curious as to the nature of this random being. She tipped her head down and pressed her forehead against his, satisfied with the subtle sign of his approval. Nagini's lush hair tumbled around their heads like a ravenous curtain and he felt her hot breath on his skin, making his palms tingle. She pressed her lips to his in a tender first kiss and slid her hands into his sprawled fingers. She took control of the moment when he hesitated.

Voldemort broke away and moved his hands into the hair at the nape of her neck, twisting through it and crushing her face roughly against his own until he could feel her teeth hungrily trying to keep up with his pace. She made a sweet high pitched noise at the back of her throat and he felt her shifting closer, her hands drawing small circles on his torso. She fumbled clumsily with the buttons of his heavy riding robe before managing to slide her fingers inside, breaking their embrace for air but only finding her breath hitching in her throat when he flicked the hair draped over breasts away. He seemed to notice her nakedness for the first time.

Her Lord glanced up at her with hooded eyes and a jet black curl fell into his face. She moved her hands smoothly up his neck and cupped his jaw in a loose hold, her nails dragging through his hair and pulling him into another silky kiss, but he would not be distracted for long. He pushed her back easily and returned his gaze to her chest, his eyes flashing dangerously. Nagini rolled her head back and gasped as she felt him caress the swell of her plump breasts, he lingered indecisively before taking her hardening nipple into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the sensitive flesh.

The sound of rain cascading against the windowpane grew louder but did not fold the soft groans and sighs into its beating depths. The Dark Lord bent his pet back over his knees and started trailing his thin lips over her stomach, leaving a burning path on her pallid skin. He held her legs firmly at his sides and took pleasure in the greedy way she writhed against him, her lean muscles and ribs evident in the weak light. He could sense her willing his attention to drop lower but he merely smirked and sat back again, waiting for her to catch on.

Nagini pulled herself upright after noticing the lack of attention and nudged her hips against his blatantly.

The Dark Lord chuckled deeply and stood up abruptly, carrying the woman against him towards his quarters nearby.

Merlin's beard, he was glad she was not fat or ugly, he thought happily. Flashing her his most reserved smile.

Page 435. He remembered as he heard the heavy book hitting the floor.

She giggled and squirmed in his grip as he neared the four-poster bed, trying to twist away from him but he held her flush against him, easily dominating the struggle. She did not seem bothered by the rejection of her playfulness and leaned back, pulling him off balance and making him fall on top of her with a quiet grunt.

Before her Lord could frown, Nagini captured his lips with her own and hastily ripped his robe open, exposing his marble skin to her. She could feel his hardness pressing against the inside of her thigh as they churned together in their intimate embrace and smiled triumphantly against his hair as he was exploring her neck with bared teeth. It felt to her like she had won for a fleeting second.

The Dark Lord groaned meaningfully and pushed himself up on his elbow, glaring into her excited eyes.

" _We are not the same reflection, Nagini_." He hissed and felt her mind offering him a calm explanation in response after a moment of quick consideration. She had meant that they shared a soul, poured into separate bodies.

Almost like a Horcrux, he thought.

" _No_." She replied patiently, " _Like a mate_."

Almost like a Horcrux, he thought. Making a note on the wall of his skull.

She closed her eyes and hid the moment in her memory before running her palm up his abdomen and loosening the final buttons of his robes. He gripped her wrist and pulled her hands away from him, pinning them over her head before shoving his knee between her legs by means of parting it. The sea of the materials of his robes hung around her and spilled over the bed.

All words were now lost. Nagini moaned in anticipation and spread her legs wider, holding onto him with her legs as he settled against her again. Lord Voldemort bruised the side of her neck with his demanding kisses and groaned as she bucked into his weight, her impatience stemming from the pool of heat building in the pit of her stomach. He took his sweet time following a slick trail down her breast and drawing whimpers from her throat. She kissed his collar bone as he finally drove into her and tried her best to meet his powerful thrusts. She soon found herself pinned down beneath his body, so she resulted to twisting her wrists free from his distracted hold and exploring everything she could reach as he forced his girth into her.

The wave of her first orgasm caused the walls of her orifice to clench down on him in a delicious way and he buried a fist in her hair, bringing the coils to his nose and closing his eyes as he let her take over.

Nagini guided her Lord's open palms up the curves of her agile form as she sat on top of him now, determined to satisfy him completely. He glided his thumbs over her nipples and pinched lightly, making her gasp and causing a low growl to resound in his chest. She took hold of his moist shaft and impaled herself on it again, grinning as she took notice of the animal emotion crossing his aristocratic features. She started slowly, grinding her round hips against him. His face contorted in ecstasy as she pulled him out completely only to sink slowly back over his length again. She could feel her second crescendo approaching and rocked their hips together easily, throwing her head back and muttering a pitched string of foreign curses and spells. She could see her Lord's eyes glaze with ardour as if she was in a trance and vaguely felt him sitting up, biting into her shoulder before taking a damaging hold on her hips and ramming himself into her body, burying his seed deeply within her.

The world returned to them and they stilled in the darkness.

A fat drop of crimson rolled from beneath Voldemort's parted lips and into the valley between her breasts like a hot tear. He returned to the mark he'd made and suckled on the sweet flesh tasting of her blood. Their bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, entwined closely and he could hear her panting subside but her heart racing still. Nagini cradled her Lord to her chest and encircled him lovingly with both arms.

" _As one_." She hissed into his ear before carefully shifting from his slack hold, his eyes lowered to her legs and found further blood stains between her thighs.

How special a gift – he thought distantly. The walls of his mind hardening again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Shadows smeared into one another, sliding fuzzy lines over the warm grey room. The walls were lined with rows of books, their backs turned into the milky shafts of dim morning light falling through the white framed glass roof above a lone desk. Burgundy curtains hung above the dusky wooden floor, sheltering the airy study from the autumn panorama south of Perthshire. He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed through the roof, studying the heavy black clouds swallowing any thought of a sun rising in the bowels of a storm that's been lingering for most of the week.

The Dark Lord paused for a moment before he turned into the high-backed chair behind his desk and absentmindedly ran his fingers through his dishevelled black hair.

What had just happened?

He needed to think.

There was an exhausted female sleeping in his bed, one he'd met a reptile while waiting for the dust to settle on the Hephzibah Smith issue. He'd been surprised, honestly, but logic sang a sweet flawless answer for once; the situation was perfect and he'd have a more private servant without any objectionable consequence he could fathom. He had grown quite fond of her after all, in his own way, especially after the rather unexpected physical consummation of the bond they shared.

Lord Voldemort decided that he was feeling pleasant and allowed a moment of reflection, finding himself smirking at the fresh memory of Nagini's indecency earlier. But he did not linger long before sliding a Sumerian text on ancient spell weaving closer and sinking back into the leather behind him while hunting for page 890.

Bookmarks had never occurred to him, he was interested enough in the subjects he chose to explore to at least remember where he'd been reading last. Yet another wedge driven between him and humanity, most of them proved so... unfocused.

He tried to keep his growing ranks focused, it usually meant using fear as instrument, and he _did_ even reward them when he saw it fit. A fragment of strategic mercy helps inspire loyalty after all, to his own defence.

The ancient clock hanging in the corridor leading to the study counted an hour with its spindly arms. The Dark Lord continued his thorough translation of the ancient language – he had a semi-confirmed theory that it could be used to weave stronger dark spells than the Latin tongue.

But he would wait until he was better acquainted with the matter before pushing into the experimenting stage.

He'd learned patience with knowledge.

Hollow thunder crackled overhead and the Dark Lord leaned back to stretch his stiff muscles. He noticed the forlorn humanoid shape standing shy of the doorframe and rose without a sound, stepping around his desk.

"I -"

A bell rang from the depths of the small manor, curtly hacking off the future conversation.

"Lucius." He stated flatly, his dark brows drawing slightly at the thought of company but his eyes fixed on the large serpent now coiled up in her stead. Voldemort strode over the lush carpet and into the dark corridor, passing the loose outline of his pet and raising his wand deftly in front of him to summon the blind elf skulking somewhere in the pantry.

It was his fault that X'al had lost the gift of sight, but the Dark Lord hated even potential loose ends.

He did however, in time, establish that the foreign creature did not _really_ need to see in order to serve his Master sufficiently. He adapted, as was the nature of everything.

And he didn't even spill tea anymore.

The elf fumbled around for the doorknob and pulled it open with immense concentration.

Lord Voldemort stepped further into the foyer and acknowledged the presence of his Deatheater with a nod. Lucius bowed and straightened, twisting his gloves in uncertainty.

"Well?" He asked impatiently.

Lucius cleared his throat and slid his wand from his cane before swiping it through the air, exposing a rather large shivering bundle of fabric cowering into itself.

"He's still conscious, my Lord. Should I-"

"No." Voldemort cut him off. "You are dismissed, Lucius."

Her Master levitated the man behind him while making his way down the stairs leading to the basement deep underground. She slivered down with him, dodging an angry stain in the wood. She knew him to brew potions down here, he had brought the servant named Severus down here once too, her Master had requested of him to make a vial of Sinta-iian – a brew that originated from Africa, used to enhance the sleeper's dreams. He was experimenting with different manners of meditations but the teacher had more ingredients to his disposal than her Lord did at present – Obviously.

Darkness swallowed the world around them as they carried on downwards with the flight of stairs flaring into a wide spiral and turning stone.

On arrival Nagini swiftly found her usual spot underneath a massive unused cauldron, balancing miraculously on only two stubby iron legs and pulled herself into a tight ball to keep the precious heat from escaping her cold length. Usually, she would watch him from this safe distance while he nurtured his various concoctions with utmost care.

But as soon as the muggle's head hit the floor with a dull thud, her Master turned to her.

" _Assist me, Nagini."_ He commanded in parselmouth.

She felt a jolt shooting down her spine and slithered out of her crack, transforming into her human form until she was strolling to the opposite side of the table.

A ball of magical light hung above their heads, bathing the cramped room in a soft white light and sending their tapering shadows sprawling over the damp walls. Her long hair hung gently over her full breasts and she met his hooded gaze with steady sapphires, savouring the look in his eyes and the rush pulsing through their connection.

He was annoyed at her nudity.

Warmth crept up her neck and spread over her flushed cheeks as he summoned a robe from thin air. It was dark, the material feeling almost liquid shifting against her skin as she moved, reaching for her wand in the space above her left shoulder where she kept it hidden with a crafty spell she learned from her late step-grandfather.

" _What would you like me to do, my Lord?"_ Nagini whispered, her mouth suddenly dry.

" _I wish to create another Horcrux. My dairy will hold the portion that we will-"_ he paused, his eyes burning past hers and she saw him remember the severe pain of the process. _"Extract now."_ He stated, his emotion squared off perfectly.

She knew he'd made three Horcruxes already and that his torn soul made him sick at times although it was always worst the first few days when his body sought desperately to adapt to the abrupt change.

His control was admirable.

Voldemort smiled handsomely at her unprocessed observation and his ancient eyes flashed softer before he pointed his knotted wand at the open floor, muttering a charm under his breath. A full circle of intricate bone white symbols appeared in the shadow of the high table.

Nagini watched him step into the ring and drop to his heels as he placed his old dairy in the centre. The book's yellowed pages yawned slightly within the discoloured leather cover. He stood up and stepped back, standing outside the rune. He slit the blade unsympathetically through his clenched hand and she heard him inhale sharply.

He held the hilt of the darkened blade out to her, the crudely sharpened edge resting carelessly inside his bloody palm. Without a word, Nagini took the sacrificial dagger and gripped his icy right hand firmly, following his unspoken orders as she cut another wide gash into the soft flesh of his other hand too. Their eyes met and she relished the lewd image he failed to hide slip into their connection, but as suddenly as it came, it was gone again – overrode by his determination to finish the affair. He turned back and rested his weight on his heels again as he stretched his hands out in front of him, dark blood spluttering deliberately over a curved symbol near the dairy.

The Dark Lord dragged the muggle into the mysterious circle with an invisible force, the man laid on his stomach, face down near the book on the opposite side of her Master. The wizard suddenly leant over and pushed the unconscious man's forehead back to expose his throat; she dropped to his level and returned the dagger to him. It hung loosely in his hand and he yanked the blade from the muggle's one ear to the other, reinforcing the killing stroke with a small charm. She felt his wounded hands burn but refrained from action, blood spurt onto the floor from the man's grinning neck.

Her Master's head snapped back and she felt dark energy ebb from the ring, his next words caught on his tongue and his eyes turned white before he groaned and fell over. Nagini felt the all consuming pain he experienced and cradled head in her lap while checking his pulse – just to be safe. She sensed a dim vibration from his mind but nothing more and rather brushed a curl from his damp forehead, caressing his face absentmindedly. At least he was alive. She was convinced that he had never looked as peaceful as he did right now.

The fifth Horcrux had taken it's toll.

His damp skin burned under her gentle touch, he had been caught in a deep slumber for almost two days by now. They had been filled with worry for Nagini as she lingered near her Lord's side, carefully evaluating a persistent fever. It seemed to chill him to the bone at times and at other times he'd burn up again. She had pulled a few thick quilts over him after she moved him back up into the manor above.

His mind was still silent; she could only find pain and an intense sense of loss residing there.

The rich blue curtains of his bedchamber cut a cobalt tint over the glistering contours of his deathly pale features. His hair was plastered with sweat and a frown had torn an elegant gorge of unease down his brow as his chest rose and fell shallowly.

A large portrait loomed over the delicately carved ironwood furniture standing strictly around the room. The brushstrokes were rough and the frame was still free of the elderly Russian warlord that usually shuffled in again at the early hours of the morning.

She'd moved numerous books from the small table at his bedside to one of his various desks in order to clear space for a large pewter basin containing a weak solution of apple cider vinegar and linen strips. A cup of yarrow and belladonna tea waited on the desk next to a jug of icy water and the two newest Daily Prophets.

She feared meddling too much magically since she was unsure of the root of his illness and resorted to only treating the fever and wrapping his cuts. He could have told me something of use, _anything_ would help now _._

His eyes roved underneath his lids and snapped open at last. He brought a neatly bandaged hand to his chest and drew a ragged breath before he doubled over, coughing urgently.

His immune system must have been influenced by the newest division of his soul.

She sensed faint thoughts and weak emotions from him.

Nagini offered the cup to him after he relaxed back into the pillows, the corners of her lips lifted in relief as her Lord allowed the remedy she offered him. Trust. His glazed eyes never left hers as he drank the bitter liquid, his mouth twitching slightly at the taste.

She wrung a strip of cloth over the basin and ran the cool material over his forehead and temple, down the side of his face and neck before dipping it back into the water. His eyes was shut when she shifted her attention away, Nagini rose from her seat and summoned logs for the hearth, her wand brushing her side lightly as she lifted her arm.

The wood flew through the open door and landed in the round stone fireplace built near the foot of the large bed. Sparks sprayed into the air as they made contact with the soot stained earth.

She watched the tangled arms of timber start to smoulder and crack, the growing flames dancing lightly over the rough husks and licking up into the charred cylinder stretching from the ceiling.

Nagini dropped to her haunches, stirring the fire by lowering her wand with a quick arch and steadying it into a slow spiral.

She had always been responsible for others while growing up - among five other siblings. She was accustomed to mothering the three younger brothers that looked to her when her mother was preoccupied, and for caring for two older brothers.

It was not that her mother had been incapable of nurturing her own young, but she assisted her husband as the informal wand distributor in their village, and it proved to be time consuming.

Nagini was used to the belly of the pig that was muggle and wizard society alike. Two of her father's predecessors had married muggles in the past and bound themselves to the poor existence they came to know like the calloused creases wiring their worn palms.

She had been taught in a Catholic muggle missionary school before Mjaftime took her in as apprentice. The old _Shtriga_ or traditional witch lived here and there, isolated in the mountainous country near the Southern Adriatic coast and taught Nagini most of what she knew about the art of magic in the three years they travelled together. The rest of the knowledge she possessed about the art her family had shared among their own kin.

Mjaftime had been as barren as a tree in winter, she never bore any one of her forgotten husbands a child but Nagini never saw any emotion touching her eyes as she recited tales of her past, her pale green eyes staring at something no one else but she noticed.

The young witch smiled at the fire. She had several fond memories of her late mentor, her loose guidance proved suitable as Nagini excelled in divination and the limitless field of potions. Although she found her Master's brewing methods to be far different from her own, more traditional approach.

The first, possibly because of the Seer's gift rooted in her ancestry, her mother had spawned a great deal of panic in the small settlement with her untimely prophecies though.

Nagini rarely had such random or resolute visions as her mother did; she had a few vivid dreams but most of the time her sleep would be pure void carrying no meaning.

Her thoughts circled back to Mjaftime, swiftly unfolding into the months after her death.

Nagini had left their haven and took to roaming into the forests as a serpent, a form she was most comfortable with.

She was searching for something she now knew was the quicksilver spirit of pure abyss and ice she fell in love with so severely.

She glanced over her shoulder at the four-poster bed with the lush navy curtains drawn away into plaited silk ropes, her Lord still laid motionless.

Persuasion was an art she was practicing to perfect her entire life. She generally got her way, wriggling into people's favour and at times, leaving squalid marks of distrust in her wake – she sometimes felt a lot like an embodied life-lesson for the weak.

Although with Him, her intentions were as pure as the first snows; she loved basking in his divine dark presence and found her place beneath him incredibly comfortable.

He woke her on the inside, carrying an excited flurry of nostalgia that made her wonder about past-lives and Fate.

It had felt too good when he accepted her; it seemed the ideal way to break her innocence even though she'd never imagine it that way as a young girl daydreaming.

They were growing ever closer, bound in an unusual relationship that went an unusual course.

She was not concerned about the health of it.

At all.

Wary not to repeat her previous blunder, she had transformed the fluid dark robe into a simple dress with a long skirt brushing her calves and folding neatly over her chest like his conjured robe had before, flowing into loose-fitting sleeves ending above her elbows. She had tied her hair back with a ribbon of similar colour; the loops of black material hidden amid her curls.

She returned to the bed, leaning against the knotted pole for a moment like a hummingbird stalling for nectar before leaving the room and wandering down the staircase leading to the kitchen area.

The rest of the house was lit with feeble daylight escaping through different shutters; she could hear the X'al-creature bustling around inside the cupboard underneath the ancient sink.

She ignored the elf and continued into the pantry, gathering the ingredients she needed to prepare soup.

The bathroom door stood open and the bed abandoned, the sheets bundled to the side.

Nagini set the hot bowl down carefully on the side table.

The room was illuminated by a single candle standing on a shelf to the side. She relished in the potent presence of his mind as her eyes adjusted to the low light while she stood in the doorframe.

He had a mind like steel, when he was conscious his mind dominated their connection and the very air, she saw the difference clearly now because of the absence.

She found him in the bathroom leading from his rooms.

He was sitting on the steps on the far side of the bathtub that was sunken into the glass tiles of the floor.

" _How do you feel?"_ she asked.

" _Nauseous,"_ He snapped, knowing she already knew of his fatigue and aching muscles too. _"Bring me my diary."_

She disappeared in search for the Horcrux.

She had put the book in the large cabinet in the drawing room. The pleasant smell of dust and old wood greeted her as she unlocked the door and took the book out, clutching it tightly against her heart. The burgundy walls brought back the memories of their consummation, and the cold, thick air hanging in the room did not stifle the fleeting butterflies beating their giddy wings inside her belly.

She returned to the bathroom, the book still folded against her chest, she knew the ritual had been successful; she could feel his dark energy radiating deliciously from it.

He was relieved that it'd worked; his loss had been worth it at least.

Nagini sat down on the edge of the tiles with her legs crossed, absently twirling through the blank pages before glancing up, immediately finding his pale face and chest in the darkness. He watched her with an unreadable expression, his mind closed somewhat.

She knew there were things that he didn't allow her to know.

 _"Come here."_ He commanded.

She stood up and circled the square tub in the floor, resuming her cross-legged position behind his back and whisking her hand over his skin - it was cooler than it'd been before.

She smirked as he lifted a sponge from the shadowy water, waiting for her to take it. She took it and started a soapy trail as she slid it over his back. She washed attentively before reaching around to his chest.

His scent overwhelmed her senses and she leaned her head against his, breathing him in. She heard him give a gasp of a laugh, but it was not unkind. He cupped her free cheek with wet fingers, his nails hard against the soft skin of her face; she sighed and ran the sponge over the front of his shoulder. The soft object annoyed her; it was a barrier between them now.

Nagini let her hair down with her free hand, the tresses tumbled over his bare shoulder before she sat back, she couldn't resist touching him any longer -

So she placed her hands on his shoulder blades and began to rub his muscles in slow, deliberate circles. Her fingers moved up into his hair at the nape of his neck, one hand pulling up to the right while her other hand continued to gently push in opposition to the left.

 _"Relax."_ Nagini admonished with a gentle hiss. Her fingers dug firmly and strategically into his shoulder, expanding the radius of the circles. His muscles strained underneath her touch, she worked up the crowns of his shoulders and returned to his neck before dipping down to his waist, not missing an inch of skin and muscle.

Voldemort inhaled deeply.

 _"Is this helping?"_ Nagini enquired, her voice soft.

 _"Yes."_ His low, velvety voice met her ears.

She pressed harder against the knotted muscles, using her index fingers to spread a knot, loosening it gradually.

Her Lord exhaled audibly, almost in a groan.

Nagini smiled to herself as she sensed his stiff muscles easing out pleasantly. She did not fail to notice a shiver that ran down her spine at the intimate sound echoing against the shadowy walls of the dimly lit room.

She increased the pressure she applied to his shoulder again, but carefully so; she felt each ridge of muscle, slowly lessening the tension. The warm skin of his shoulder blades burned beneath her palms and she caved, leaning forward again, pushing her face into the crook of his neck. She heard his heart beat steadily and his answering chuckle was warm and husky, she could feel the vibrations against her ear.

She giggled girlishly and ran her fingers through his thick hair.

 _"I'm relieved."_ she murmured against his neck.

 _"Why?"_ he asked bluntly, almost leaning against her.

 _"I was concerned."_ She replied simply.

He said nothing; she placed a lingering kiss underneath his ear, savouring the taste.

He had closed his eyes.

 _"I'm full of holes, yet I'm full of water. What am I?"_

 _"A sponge."_ He answered without hesitation.

 _"Can I have it back?"_ Nagini asked, the sound of a smile lingering in her voice.

He laughed then, the dark, charming sound ricocheting thorough the womb-like chamber. She understood why it was so easy for him to sway mortals to his will; he made you _want_ please him. She snatched the sponge back as he lifted it from the water, smoothing it over his collarbone.

 _"Have you ever seen a boggart, Nagini?"_

She knew what he was asking.

 _"It's the same as yours, my Lord."_ She whispered to him.

 _"And before me?"_ He insisted.

 _"A shark."_

 _"You're joking."_

She slipped her left foot into the cold water of the pool; webs of eerie white scars marked the pale flesh underneath her ankle. He took hold of her foot and examined the old wound.

 _"It's how I first discovered my magical talent."_ She continued, and the vivid image of muddy red water and fiery pain and panic swam through her memory and their link.

 _"You have such elegant feet…"_ He hissed as he brushed his thumb over the old damage, paying no attention to the foggy recollection she had of the attack.

"Hmmm," she purred, enjoying the attention.

 _"Ask X'al to bring me a healing potion, he knows where they're kept, and go and get some rest, you're exhausted."_ Her Lord commanded as he abruptly left her embrace.

Her demeanour fell as she obeyed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The self-claimed albeit rightful Dark Lor

d of the wizarding world woke up nonchalantly, stretching out splendidly as he sat up. His hands strayed over his face and through his hair, awareness and familiar emotions gradually returning to the surface.

His hand automatically curled around the familiar shape of his wand, the bed's curtains shot out of the way and he swung his feet over the side. His eyes shut tightly as he faced the bright sunlight.

He bit his lip, pondering his schedule for the day as he sat on the edge of his mattress, head still bowed.

He had to call another meeting with his inner-circle sometime, perhaps the summer Equinox would be best.

Voldemort found his signet ring in the small, heavily charmed, wooden box shoved in between the backs of two books on his nightstand and slipped the cold silver over his right middle finger. He turned his hand to inspect the cuts; they turned to be memories in his flesh. It was healing quickly, and he was satisfied with his success.

Two delicate serpents twisted into a silver band and crossed where the black stone was set, the Peverell crest proudly gracing the smooth black surface. The light caught the different angles with fleeting crystalline ribbons and seemed to hypnotize his thoughts further away from reality.

Nagini.

It had been bothering at the back of his head but only now did he find the cause; where was she?

He could not feel the glow of her mind at all. She wasn't here.

His brows drew together and he rose to his full height, his previous train of thought derailed completely. Where did she go? Where _could_ she have gone? _Why_ would she leave?

 _Betrayal._

He pushed the churning questions aside expertly and sauntered over to the lofty wardrobe, a definite flame of annoyance lit.

Of course she was nowhere in the house, he made his way to the backdoor and paused with his hand on the knob.

"Where did she go." It wasn't a question, because he wasn't asking.

"Master..." came the hesitant little voice, "the mistress walked out the door, Master... X'al heard her leave, Master."

"Is that all?" he pushed.

"She had your shoes in her hand, Master, X'al is sorry, Master, he did not know what to do."

With that Voldemort left.

The sky was muted by miles of clouds, stretching beyond rolling hills, graced by masses of silky stalks, swaying lazily in the determined breeze. His cloak whipped around him, he was outside now and thoroughly annoyed.

He did not understand what was going on, he despised ignorance and the ignorant even more.

 _Ironically_ , he thought while marching down the slope below the back porch.

He was good at guessing - so he just guessed where she was.

His feet left the ground and icy air almost forced his breath away. The wind whined in his ears and black smoke billowed around him, clinging to his form as he flew through his own anti-aparition wards, covering vast stretches of land in mere seconds. The landscape reduced to a blur of fiery colours of the golden trees yellowed fields of grass.

He spotted a thicket of trees greedily growing around a pool springing from the valley above. The blades of grass churned wildly as he landed again.

The wind shifted over him like a sigh, playing with the loose folds of his robe. His eyes locked on the odd sight of his favourite pair of boots leaning against the trunk of a hollow tree, one lounging on it's side in the wet grass, the laces clotted in mud.

Irritation seeped through him and he clenched his fists at his sides momentarily before ducking beneath a branch and stepping over a rock, halting on a sandy grey ledge overlooking a pool.

She was perched on a flat rock hanging over the black pool, her toes almost touching the mirror surface. She was facing away from him, stark naked, as usual. He almost rolled his eyes but the moment proved too distracting.

He rather rolled his head to one side, clicking the vertebrae as he silently admired his stray possession. How he _loved_ beautiful things...

This didn't mean he forgot about her sin against him, he remembered.

She combed her fingers through her hair, prying the wet strands from one another. Nagini's shape was sculpted in complete contrast with her bleak surroundings. Black trees jutted their crowns into the milky sky, ominous clouds bleeding into the small patches of clear sky.

Remembering his anger the Dark Lord probed at her consciousness with his own, finding her occlumency shield barring his intrusion.

She whipped around at his invisible touch, twisting her body at an awkward angle, her eyes surprised. The rest of her face stone.

When he caught himself, his feet were already carrying him towards her, his own features probably writ with a scowl.

He prepared to launch a magical attack at her seemingly solid mental walls but suddenly she was gone, the water swallowing her whole and his concentration broken momentarily.

He stood on the edge of the murky pool now, considering the situation as he watched the ripples on the surface ebb away.

It _had_ occurred to him that all this trouble could be described as a game; it made sense when taking the involvement of his boots into account.

He couldn't phantom how he felt about games at the moment.

Thunder rumbled overhead and stirred a predatory instinct inside of him. He cocked his head slightly as she pulled herself out at the far side, sparing him a faint glance before she scrambled into the first trees announcing the forest. He could not help feeling a lewd jolt as her bouncing bottom distracted his gaze from her legs.

In a flash, lust consumed his anger.

He liked competitions more than games. He was better at them, with or without playing fairly.

Voldemort rounded the pool casually, following Nagini's path through a mess of low shrubs and past an old breech tree.

He trudged deeper into the trees, considering a few fitting punishments and listening to the thunder ripping through the clouds, signing the start of a storm.

He had to search for her shielded presence once and his patience thinned considerably.

He had better things to do...

Patience is bitter, but it's fruit is sweet, he chided himself with an ancient, lame wisdom while rubbing at his right temple.

He dodged another low hanging branch and noticed the forest paused in a small meadow. Leaves lay strewn over the floor, hiding logs and mossy boulders underneath their rusty carpet.

He spotted her at the far end of the clearing, resting her back against the side of a table-sized boulder. Her knees were drawn to her chest and her chin rested on top.

He also noticed the annoying sight of the ghost of a smile haunting her lips.

Raindrops drizzled from the sky falling against the leaves of the forest. Alien roots wrapped around the blue rock behind her, continuing over the smaller stones resting in a web of tentacles flowing from a single lichen covered fig tree.

As he drew closer to her she stood up, panting slightly. She had had to fight to keep in front of him he realised pettily.

Her eyes were still wide, a hint of challenge hidden beside obvious fear.

How queer a creature, he thought as he pointedly said; "Why are you always naked?" easily finding a place to commence his castigate.

Her hair was tucked behind her ears, hanging down her back and he did find it took effort to keep his gaze unmoving as she stood in front of him, courageously trying to hold her ground.

"Nude." She mumbled defiantly and he suddenly felt a bit like a prefect all over again.

She closed the distance between them, carefully touching his chest.

Her mind opened wide as he bored inside, her weak resistance futile against his honed talent.

"You _dare."_ A hand curled over her lower arm in a vice grip, twisting it away from him.

He was angry for a few reasons, she sensed, but he was most displeased about her locking him from her head.

He spun her round, pushing her level with the cold, uneven surface, her arm twisted awkwardly behind her.

She gasped as pain shot up her back but did nothing to fight his will.

 _"_ Do you understand that I have been _very_ merciful?"He said in a dangerous tone, burying a fist in her damp hair,and jerking her head back as he spat the words in common tongue.

 _"Yess-"_ she started quietly, wanting to say more but stopping herself in an epiphany of heavenly wisdom.

She seemed to understand his annoyance now that he had used force, he decided.

Voldemort released her and allowed her to rise and step back, thinking for a moment that he did indeed like her instability.

He realized he had three fingers parting her teeth as he gripped the soft flesh of her cheeks.

Hovering for a second before he tipped his head down, crushing his mouth into hers and giving into his greed, he was surprised to discover her sucking his bottom lip and turning his barbaric motion into a kiss of sorts.

She felt nothing but his mouth on hers and she thought her heart had stopped.

He pulled back and she watched him lick at his own lips, like he tasted her all over again.

He thought he tasted something earthy.

She felt the familiar tightening in her lower stomach.

His brows furrowed when he realized she was chewing.

"What are you eating?" he hissed.

"Psilocybe semilanceata." She answered perfectly honest, the porcelain mask of innocence not quite fitting on her face though.

"You poisoned me?!" he thundered, spitting the now-recognizable taste of mushroom onto the ground.

"I was not! It's used –" She tried to defend quickly, struggling pick the right words in the few seconds before her final reckoning.

She realized too late that she went too far, fear was evident in her wide eyes.

He growled low in his chest and the back of his ring-hand met sharply with her cheek, Voldemort raised his wand, and before she could exhale she heard him whisper a single horrid word.

 _"Crucio."_

The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that she no longer knew where she was... white-hot knives were piercing every inch of her skin, she thought her head was surely going to burst with pain; and she was screaming more loudly she'd ever screamed in her life.

Then, mercifully, it stopped after what seemed an eon of suffering.

His anger was blatantly scowled over his face, she was now laying on the leaf covered ground, her back pushing slightly from the ground as it spasmed. She recoiled when he reached out and flung her up against the corner of the table-boulder, she could not gather enough strength to even lift her face from the surface.

His thoughts had retracted from hers and she suddenly felt very alone in her head, just like everyone else.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she stifled a surprised yelp as she felt him part her buttocks, pressing against her, preparing to mount her from behind.

She crushed a stray root growing over the boulder into her fist for support, her cheek stung like hellfire and hot tears blurred her vision.

Of a million emotions she'd list shock on the top.

She felt him place a flat hand on her lower back before he pressed into her, not caring whether she was ready for him. Nagini attempted to press herself up on her elbows again but Voldemort wound his fingers into her hair, forcing her down as he started moving inside of her, sighing deeply.

He filled her to her limit, trying to push further still.

After a while he rested his lips on her spine, fixing the image of her tears in his mind's eye as he diabolically lost himself inside her heat.

He wanted her complete submission – _in a moment -_ he procrastinated, almost immediately losing the emotion in the swirl of others.

Nagini pressed her pelvis back, starting to meet his wild thrusts; he heard her muffled mewing beneath him, she was content again.

 _So easy to please -_ the thought flashed by his eyes.

Voldemort filled his hands with her breasts, squeezing until she arched her back in, he assumed uncaringly, pleasure.

"Safe, no poison, I – I promise." She stammered in a small voice, her pain and his pleasure blending into an addictive state of being.

He paused, distracted.

"Why did you take my boots?" he demanded angrily, still in common tongue.

He pulled out of her with a grunt, easily flipping her onto her back after a moment of her silence.

Her tears had dried over the swollen red mark, fresh desire glittering in her eyes still pained.

Nagini considered her next move carefully and upon not finding any suitable words, pressed her nails into his stomach, trailing them up his chest as she parted his hastily undone robe further, while cautiously sitting up, still pinned beneath his steely gaze.

" _Because you like riddles."_ She hissed against his warm skin, daring to take his rigid length into her hand, teasing the sensitive flesh with the agile fingers of a charms mistress, a stray hand found one of her breasts again, kneeing single-mindedly at the supple shape.

His free hand danced down her hip, gripping her bottom firmly and lifting her leg around his waist, keeping it in place. With the other he brushed her wanton hand away, pulling her nearer to the edge of the stone.

Nagini moaned softly and raked her nails down her Lord's back as he entered her again.

She watched his eyes darken as she clenched down around him as tightly as she could, her nails digging deeper in arousal.

Her Lord replied with deep, sharp thrusts, relishing in the small sounds of urgency his mate made at the back of her throat as she turned into a shameless animal again.

His pace became frenzied and he threw his head back, pulled back into the vortex of ecstasy building between them.

Her head was spinning too fast for her to catch onto her own thoughts.

Nagini leant back in his clawed hands, allowing him more depth.

His lips parted in a growl as he came.

He could swear he heard his birth name whispered hoarsely somewhere amidst the blissful confusion of his tempest.

She threw her leg over his hips as he collapsed onto the rock beside her, breathing heavily. She found a place for her head in the crook of his arm and stayed still until he stirred, sat up and started buttoning his robes again.

 _"Do you see the patterns?"_ he hissed quietly, insecurely glancing to where she was elegantly sprawled on the rock, her legs crossed. He knew she was in pain.

She blinked slowly and rubbed her cheek absentmindedly and she looked around as if for the first time. He wondered if she was trying to make him feel insane on purpose, but dismissed the thought angrily.

" _Yes."_ She replied at last, " _they're pretty aren't they, my Lord?"_

 _"Interesting_." He corrected, his eyes caught on the humming forest for a while before he announced, as if to an audience;

 _"I just thought of a new spell."_

 _"Mmmm?_ " She urged lazily.

" _To make my name into a portkey."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"Only the arrogant dare speak it,_ " he explained partially, sparing her a look that could fill novels.

 _"You are a prodigy."_ She smoothed him over and sat up with a grin, accepting his head into her lap as he laid down, fully clothed again.

" _Will you protect me?"_

" _Will you fuck me?"_

 _"I will._ " She smiled.

 _"Then I will_." He agreed.

A satisfied silence ensued between them, filled with induced webs of alien thoughts and feelings.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **A/N: If you're trying to figure out TIME in this story, don't, it skips parts. Don't let it be a bother, just live into it -This is a short one - :)**

Voldemort rubbed at the spot of drying blood on his cheek. It was not his own, he was exceptionally relaxed at this particular moment in his rather productive day.

He did not bother closing the door he had to force open earlier behind him as he strode out over the deceased's icy stretch of lawn and through the squat picket fence gate over Fitzgerald street. The wall of cold air that met him came evoked an unexpected wave of appreciation from a small corner of his heart after the stuffy atmosphere inside the house. Happiness comes with the little things, he thought a bit sarcastically.

He was still wiping at the dried stain as he passed a church, pitched voices ringing off the walls and escaping through the thick doors. He didn't like it. Christmas carols especially. No initiative. Always the same.

His breath hung in the air in front of him, the cold stung his face but he paid it little mind as he was bringing the image of his voyeur into his mind's eye and with a loud _CRACK_ he was overwhelmed by warmth and ugly wallpaper bearing down on him from all sides.

He cocked his head to the side, satisfied when he heard the bones slipping sharply into place and a stiff kind of pain leaving.

The door in front of him swung open at a slight touch of his gloved hand.

Inside the entire collection of his followers sat nervously, their waiting eyes following him to his seat at the head of the dark polished table. _Of course_ , he heard in his mind, the proud baron Agus was absent yet again. He made a mental note of it and turned to the faces floating nervously in front of him.

He smiled then, not because he was somehow delighted by their loyal presence but because he knew he'd robbed them of aChristmas evening with family – most of them anyway. He highly doubted someone like Greyback had holiday plans with a special someone tonight. He noticed a few mislead smiles reflect back. Turning the curve of his lip into a smirk he hid tactfully by the act of sitting down, a fluent movement encrypted in his personality and muscle memory by many years of practice. It had disappeared by the time he was levelled with them again – literally of course. What a _good_ day this is to be alive.

He started then, as always, by admonishing his flock in general before he got to the rest. An old strategy.

His voice was the only sound. Everything seemed to listen intently as he explained some subject Nagini frankly did not _really_ care about. She was listening to the sleek, deep vibrations and honey dripping from his lips. It was the kind of honey she could get drunk on, if it were to be bottled, it would be illegal, she thought idly as she entered the audience chamber from the opposite side of the table through double doors left slightly ajar. Her body slid over the elaborate soft carpet, approaching the group, she knew he was aware of her presence but he made no attempt to acknowledge her. She wove through the forest of fine wooden furniture legs, mentally giggling at the Deatheater feet scrambling out of her way as she slithered up to her only alpha and omega.

She looked up at his high-backed chair and did a small calculation before using her serpentine strength to ascend the carved wood and find a perch above his head, her sizable body hanging slightly from the back, the tip of her tail brushing his shoulder. The contact between the delicate scales of her tail and his thick riding robe was very purposefully made. She knew he knew her slight touch was not incidental.

She waited until he dismissed his followers and slid down from the chair as he rose, almost toppled by her own weight draped over the high back and the abrupt absence of his. Nagini coiled hesitantly into a heap as she touched the floor, her Lord did not seem to desire company by the look of his hooded eyes, drawn together by a troubled frown, clearly busy far away. She should wait for his tempest to abate, she decided.

888

It was 3:08 in the morning; Voldemort was sitting in front of a large window, studying the silent graveyard at the side of the manor, lit only by the moonlight in the mist drifting outside. He was having trouble sleeping again.

Nagini walked up to his armchair, careful not to make a sound as she ceased her stride at his elbow, sitting down gently on the floor with legs loosely crossed.

Again, he made no move to acknowledge her presence. His left hand rested lightly on his chin as he sat, probably overthinking something.

Boldly, she made a move:

 _"_ _There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight."_ She started in parselmouth, noticing his attention shifting to her story. He grew up in a muggle society after all, thus she was quite sure he'd never caught up with the tales generations of witches and wizards were sent to bed with.

 _"_ _In time,"_ she continued, " _the brothers reached a river_ _too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure._

 _And Death spoke to them._

 _He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him._

 _So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother._

 _Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._

 _And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."_

Nagini had had her Lord's curiosity, but now she had his full attention.

 _"_ _Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination._

 _The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, he sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible. That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat._

 _And so Death took the first brother for his own._

 _Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her untimely death appeared at once before him. Yet she was silent and cold, separated from him as though by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her._

 _And so Death took the second brother for his own._

 _But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."_

"The hallows..." he whispered, almost to himself.

 _"_ _Could they really exist?"_ He asked then, honest intrigue etched into his brow.

She was comfortable enough to shift for the first time, breathing in deeply.

" _My father last claimed a man named.._." she paused trying to remember correctly, " _Grindelwald, owned the Elderwand."_

Upon seeing rare doubt flicker inside his dark eyes, she added;

" _My father might have been many things my Lord, but he was no gullible fool. He knew a great many things."_

He fell silent for a measure, still gazing out of the window at the grounds blanketed by thick fog with glazed eyes. Nagini scooted to sit at his feet, her hand falling softly on his knee as she drew her body nearer to him, breaking his concentration for a mere second, she saw.

The minutes strode by impatiently and he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes when he realized she was still looking up at him like a hungry puppy. He pried her fingers from him and stood up, leaving his private chambers for the hallway with a billowing tangle of robes. His riding cloak still hanging heavy on his shoulders.

He knew his personal library like the back of his hand and he was sure he had no books on the Hallows in hiding in between the rest, less myth driven books. He snorted to himself. Wondering if he was acting a fool in allowing himself to ponder the actual existence of the Hallows. But his time in the wizarding world had taught him it could just as well be true.

 _Just like she said_ , echoed in his mind, he ignored the echo.

Voldemort apparated to the Largest Wizarding Library of London sparing an aching thought for the Hogwarts library, where he once sought refuge from the world for so long, immersing himself in the isles of knowledge.

888

He ruffled through the pages of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, pausing at a carefully drawn symbol at the start of the chapter housing the story of the three dead brothers.

He frowned, glanced at his hand resting on top of the page; the symbol was the same as the one on his ancient ring. A simple line, circle and a triangle.

The Dark Lord sat back, he'd been wrong all this time, it wasn't the Peverell coat of arms... he'd been wearing the Resurrection Stone all along...


End file.
